


Winter Weather

by Factoids



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Factoids/pseuds/Factoids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa moves back north and it could have gone better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I love the winter weather

It took Sansa exactly thirty six minutes from the plane door opening to decide that returning north was a colossal mistake.

It had been so amazing to get the call. WFSC was the biggest radio station in the north, and more than that it was what Sansa had listened to every day until she had moved south as a teen. When they asked her to take over one of their best slots after one of her childhood idols she hadn’t hesitated for a second. She had spent the two months leading up to the move practically vibrating with excitement to the point even Margaery had to tell her to calm down.

Her good mood had been dented but survived the incident at the airport where a man managed to creep her out so badly she left her sweater behind in her hurry to get away from him and didn’t notice until she was already boarded. It had even managed to carry her through the frustratingly long conversation with the lady at the lost luggage counter when she realised her bag had not been on the flight anymore than her sweater.

What finally took the wind out of her sails was trekking through freshly fallen snow for ten minutes to find the right stop at the very much open air bus terminal feeling the cold wetness climbing ever higher up her legs as she walked only to find the scrolling orange text that was supposed to give next departure time showing a message about weather related delays.

It was a sign. It was multiple signs.

She should have stayed in the balmy south where winter meant a couple of months of jeans and sweaters and not more than half the year risking hypothermia on any long walk.

Sansa set her chin high and stared straight ahead and pretended she not to see the disapproving looks from people dismissing her as vain and silly at the stop across from hers – where the buses were, _apparently,_ impervious to snow  – interspersed with the occasional leering as what remained of her body heat managed to melt the snowflakes that find their way onto her bare arms and suddenly too thin t-shirt.

Almost twenty minutes into pouting and waiting her focus on the spot behind the evil, lucky, appropriately dressed people on the other side was broken by something moving toward her in the form of a man in a military jacket and horrendous knitted cap looking both ways and jogging across both empty bus lanes to stand in front of her.

By the time she had pulled her thoughts back from her sulk he was holding out his grey and white coat to her. It was proper winter gear, and she recognized the patch on one arm as Castle Black, the biggest military base in the North by a wide margin.

It took her an embarrassingly long time to grasp what he was doing as he jerked his head toward  her in and indication that she should put it on. She blushed involuntarily and shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

“You’re going to catch your death.” He rolled his eyes. “Just put it on.” Giving her no more room to argue he slung it across her shoulders himself and she could almost cry at the relief as the muscles in her back started to unclench and her hands clutched on to the soft inside entirely without her permission.

“But you won’t have a coat.” She frowned at his torso, encased in the thick olive green knit of a pullover just fitted enough for her to notice broad shoulders and impressive biceps, and then up to his face, equally attractive save for the mess of multicolored yarn above it and the unimpressed look.

“I have a thermal undershirt and a proper jumper, I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are shaking. What were you thinking with those clothes?”

“My luggage was lost.”

He winced in sympathy and some of the disapproval melted away. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She shrugged and very nearly let out a groan as she spotted another bus coming from the wrong direction. The fifth, but who was counting? “I think that’s your bus.” She nodded toward the other side and started slipping the coat from her shoulders only to have him tug it back up and pull the zipper closed.

“Keep it. You can’t be standing around here like that.”

She almost let the subject drop until she remembered the proper military patches. “Won’t it get you in trouble if you don’t have this?”

He smirked at her as she shifted around to get her arms into the sleeves rather than standing huddled up with them dangling. “It might if I were active duty. I’m retired.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He moved to walk away and then turned back to her, crossing the street backward and raising his voice to call from halfway across the street. “For the record, I would have taken the fine.”

“What?”

“If I was still enlisted. I still wouldn’t have taken it back.” She could see his smile as he kept backing away.

“Watch where you’re going!” She laughed out as he gave a wave and stepped onto the bus just before the doors closed.

“You are sending me some very mixed messages today.” She announced to the universe as the bus pulled away. “I don’t care how attractive he was, or how chivalrous, I am not falling for a stranger at a bus stop. I’m just not.”


	2. So the two of us can get together

“I think you’re running a bit late. Don’t you, Snow?” Grenn grinned widely at him, all teeth and smugness, and gave him a clap on the shoulder in greeting. Jon wracked his brain for anything at all he was supposed to do other than go to the grocery store, much less anything that might amuse Grenn so much, and came up with nothing.

He sighed and braced himself for whatever painful pun was about to be thrown at him. “For what?”

“Your date? Your girl’s sitting all by her lonesome at the caff.” Grenn jerked his thumb toward the café halfway up the block behind him and shot Jon a look that clearly implied he’d been caught red-handed before he headed off with a cheery wave.

His friends had always been prone to mocking him for any and all indications that he might find a girl pretty, but in the two weeks since his return from his trip up north they had seemed fully convinced he was hiding a secret girlfriend and he could not understand why. Grenn’s words were enough for him to abandon his plan to stock up on juice and frozen pizza in favour of investigating.

He wandered into the café and glanced around for anyone he might have mentioned in passing to Pyp, because it was always Pyp who started these rumours, and he couldn’t help the disbelieving smile that spread across his face when he spotted the woman seated in the corner with her legs pulled up under her and a book open next to her giant mug. The woman wearing his coat.

He ordered a coffee and made his way over, clearing his throat as he reached her table.

Her eyes flicked up slowly as she reluctantly pulled herself out of her book, only to widen as she recognized him standing there. “Brigadier Snow!” She gave him a somewhat sheepish smile as he took note that she’d clearly spotted both his name and his rank slides at some point in the two weeks she had apparently been wandering around wearing them.

He gave her a salute and a grin. “Yes Ma’am, most people call me Jon though.”

“Jon.” Her smile softened into something shy and almost painfully sweet. “My name is Sansa. Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the empty chair across from her.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your book.” He gestured to where her finger was still resting at the point she had left off and she flicked the paperback closed.

“I insist.” Her fingers went to worry the worn sleeves of his coat instead as he sat down. “Besides, I should probably return this, now that I know who you are and all.”

“Or you could keep it. You suit it.” She was taller than most women, but slight enough that she swam in it in a way he found incredibly endearing. “I have plenty of winter gear and I have to wear a uniform to work anyway.” He almost told her about Pyp and Grenn and why he’d ended up there in the first place, but he found he wasn’t particularly inclined to make her want to wear the coat less.

“What do you do?”

“Ranger.” The way she leans forward resting her chin on her hand and gives her full attention deserves more of an answer, but he’s never been given to verbosity and the look she’s giving him is a little distracting. It doesn’t seem to matter much when she lights up with equal parts excitement and nostalgia.

“In the Wolfswood?”

“Yeah. I take it you’re not as new here as your clothes made you look?”

“I grew up here, I just moved back. The rangers had to come find my siblings and I when we’d gone running off into the Wolfswood about fifty times. Not my idea, by the way.” She hastens to point out when he snorts. He’s had to go hunting for runaways more than once, but it’s never the same children twice. “I was the responsible one and I couldn’t let them go on their own. Poor Mr Cassell was at his wits end with us, I think.”

“Your family still lives here?”

“No. We scattered to the winds I’m afraid. My sister is overseas doing the gods hardly know what and my little brothers are both off at school.”

“What made you move back? If you don’t mind my saying, it doesn’t look like it’s the climate.” He gestures to where she’s still wrapped up in a thick winter coat while sipping on hot chocolate indoors.

“I happen to love the snow.” She sniffs daintily. “I just like it better on the other side of a pane of glass or three.” He snorts into his coffee. “In all seriousness, I do love a real winter even if it doesn’t love me back, but I moved back for work. I got a job at WFSC, too good to pass on.”

“Oh? And will I be hearing you on the air any time soon?”

“Every night, eight to ten.”

“Oh that’s great, you’re replacing what’s-his-name with the grating voice.”

She laughed and then lightly slapped him across the shoulder with a mock indignant look. “Hey! I’ll have you know that  _ what’s-his-name _ was my childhood hero and the reason I went into radio in the first place.”

He held his hands up in an insincere apology. “Sorry, I’m just saying, they traded up.”

“Hush you.” She blushed, hiding behind her giant mug.

He surprised himself by staying for another cup, then a third and a shared giant cupcake. When Sansa finally had to go he offered to walk her and was rewarded with another shy smile, half hidden behind copper hair. She stopped them in front of a small cottage inexplicably lodged between a large apartment complex and a park. It suited her.

“You’re sure I can keep it?” She was holding onto his coat with a great deal more fondness than he’d ever had for it.

“Absolutely.” She beamed at him and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before turning to unlock her bright green door.


End file.
